


Understanding

by pidgeotto_gunderson



Series: VLD Season 2 Fix-It's [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: A+ communication skills, Anxiety, Awkward Conversations, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, Lance (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, M/M, Nightmares, Pining, Pining Lance (Voltron), Season 2 Fix it, Talking, Voltron Season 2, episode 6 - The Ark of Taujeer, god why is it that every time i post a new work i suddenly forget how to tag, it's a miracle honestly, like actual people, not really but they're trying, terrible, they're bad at feelings, they're both just, this is the best y'all are getting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-28 15:16:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10126985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pidgeotto_gunderson/pseuds/pidgeotto_gunderson
Summary: Season 2 fix-it, imagining if Lance heard Keith having the nightmare in episode 6.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is based solely on a [post](http://klanced.tumblr.com/post/156196629875/so-we-know-that-keith-and-lance-have-room-next-to) i saw. i decided i had to write it because it's a WONDERFUL AU

The door slides open when he taps the panel, and Lance takes in the slumped form on the bed, trembling and covered in sweat.

 

“Hey, uh…” Lance says, rubbing the back of his neck and leaning against the doorframe. “I heard you shout, from my room - are you, ah…okay?” 

 

It’s hard to get out, just because he can feel Keith’s snappy reply coming. It would be laughable if Keith didn’t look like he’d just seen a ghost. His breath is coming out in puffy gasps, and Lance can see where his fingernails are digging into his wrist. Keith glances up at him, eyes wide, blinks a couple times, and says, “I-I’m - fine, I’m fine.” 

 

“Bullshit,” Lance replies cheerfully, stepping into the room. The door closes behind him as Keith snorts softly, tucks a strand of his hair behind his ear, and scoots back to lean against the headboard. “You wanna talk about it?”

  
  
He’s expecting a no, of course he is - he’s already poised to leave and just go right back to sleep (he’s not even sure why he’s here, but his conscience wouldn’t let him ignore the obvious fear in Keith’s voice that he could hear even from his own room). So the first thing he feels is surprise when Keith stares at him for a moment and says, “Actually, I - I kind of do.”

 

Lance’s confusion is reflected in Keith’s furrowed brow, as if Keith, himself, is shocked at his own words. There’s tension in Keith’s shoulders and in the air. “Okay,” Lance says slowly, “shoot, then. I’m a good listener.”

  
  
Keith sighs. And doesn’t say anything. It’s silent for a long moment before Keith gives him this look that clearly says  _ what are you waiting for?,  _ and Lance jolts and scurries over to the bed. He perches carefully on the edge on the bed, and Keith bites his lip.

 

And opens his mouth. And closes it again. 

 

Lance can see the internal battle waging, deep in Keith’s eyes. Indecision flickers across his features, then a stony sort of resolve settles in his face. 

 

“I have to go,” he says.

 

Lance blinks. He doesn't mean to say it, but the first thing that comes out of his mouth is “What the fuck are you talking about?”

 

Keith huffs out a tired almost-laugh, rubbing at his eyes. He won't look Lance in the eyes. “I - it's…not something I can explain. Not now, at least,” he adds quickly, at Lance’s scoff. “It's. - complicated. Really complicated.”

 

Lance’s stomach twists _. Stop doing that,  _ he thinks.  _ Stop acting like I can’t handle it. _

 

“I’m not  _ that  _ stupid, Keith,” Lance says, and it comes out snippier than he'd intended. “Explain it to me.”

 

“I  _ can't.”  _ Lance almost reels back at the desperation and the  _ fire  _ in Keith’s gaze. “Lance, you don’t - you  _ can’t  _ understand. There are things I can’t explain to you, or to anyone, for that matter. There are things I don’t even understand right now that I’m trying to figure out, and I just - I need time. I need  _ answers. _ ”

 

Lance folds his legs underneath him and leans forward, elbows on his knees. “I get that, Keith, I do. But I can’t help you here if I don’t know what the question is.”

 

“I’m not  _ asking  _ for your help,” Keith snaps, and Lance has to go back over his previous words just to figure out when the hell he offered. Keith’s toes brush against Lance’s ankle. Lance shivers, and Keith’s voice softens slightly. “This isn’t something you can help me with, Lance,” he says, and he looks almost pained.

 

Lance sighs heavily and it hits him, then, just how close they are. He could move his leg even just a little and his knee would bump Keith’s. Pulling his eyes away from where Keith’s bare skin touches his, Lance examines Keith’s face. He’s pale, even more so than usual, his eyes are bloodshot, his cheeks are sunken, and he looks like he’s barely slept in days. Lance wonders how he didn’t notice this before. 

 

(He knows exactly how he didn’t notice. He didn’t pay attention.)

 

_ It’s not your job,  _ he tells himself, but if he’s not there to take care of everyone, then who will be?

 

Lance puts a hand on Keith’s ankle and says, “I may not be able to help, but you still don’t have to go it alone, y’know.”

 

Keith stares at Lance’s hand, then looks up at Lance’s face. He’s shaking. “I - I don’t - I’ve always just…gone it alone.”

 

“Seriously?”

  
  
“I mean -” Conflict. It’s evident in Keith’s face, as his teeth pull at his bottom lip and his nose scrunches up tight. He seems to be searching for something, both in himself and in Lance’s eyes. Lance tenses slightly under the scrutiny, but he waits, waits for Keith to find whatever he needs to find, lets him decide what he wants to say and if he even wants to say it.

 

“I, uh - I just, I’ve been -” Keith stops, takes a deep breath. Starts again. “I’ve been - alone. For a lot of my life. I’m used to - to doing everything on my own. And I know we’re supposed to be a team, but I don’t know how to be that - to be a teammate. A good one, at least.” He’s stumbling over the words, looking anywhere but at Lance.

 

“I’ve never liked talking about - about my childhood. It’s - I know I shouldn’t bottle everything up, Shiro’s already chewed me out about that, but -” Keith sniffs, rubs the back of his neck, anxiety radiating off of him in waves. “- it’s hard, to talk about it, to even think about it.”   
  


Lance says, “You don’t have to.”

 

Keith nods, closing his eyes.. “I know. I know, but I - I need you to understand, I need someone to  _ understand.” _

 

“Understand  _ what _ , Keith?”

 

“Why I have to go, Lance!” And suddenly Keith looks angry - perhaps not at Lance, but at himself. For what, Lance doesn’t know. “I have to - I need to know if it’s me, if Zarkon is tracking me.”

 

And Lance doesn’t get it, no, of course he doesn’t, because as much as Keith has spoken (more than Lance has ever heard him say at one time before, let alone to _Lance_ ), he still hasn’t explained. Not really, at least. Lance understands now, maybe, why Keith is so distant sometimes, why he doesn’t pull away so much as jerk, fast and without warning, out of the hold that is their little makeshift family. 

 

He understands this now, yes, but Keith is still a mystery, a paradox, a shitload of contradictions, because he’s both hot and cold, reckless and thoughtful, unfiltered and considerate, all at the same time. 

 

He doesn’t know how Keith has gotten it into his head that he’s the one being tracked, giving away their location, indirectly putting them all in danger. And he wants to ask, but there’s this look, this fear, this anger, this - this inherent  _ need _ , in Keith’s eyes, and Lance can’t bring himself to push.

 

Thing is, he trusts Keith. He wants to pretend that he doesn’t, that he hates this boy in front of him, that he wouldn’t do anything for this boy. But he can’t because he does trust him. But he can’t because he doesn’t hate him. But he can’t because he would bleed for this boy, if there were ever a reason. 

 

He trusts Keith, and he tells Keith just that.

 

“Look, man, I don’t get it,” Lance says. Keith’s face falls and Lance hurries to backtrack. “It doesn’t matter, though, Keith - it doesn’t fucking matter if I get it. I trust you, alright? I trust you, so if this is…something you need to do, whatever the reason, I’m not gonna question it and I’m not gonna try to stop you.” He squeezes Keith’s ankle. “Whether we’re rivals or not - and we are, don’t think that’s changed, Keithy-boy - I do trust you.”

 

It’s quiet, for a moment. Keith breathes in. Breathes out. Lance matches Keith.

 

_ In and out. In and out. In and out. _

 

_ In, out, in, out, in, out. _

 

“I, uh -” Keith says, and Lance thinks this is going to be torture. But then Keith is fumbling through his sentence and  _ fuck _ , maybe Keith has picked up a thing or two from Lance. “I didn’t know you, ah, felt that way about me.” He’s nervous, obviously, but he’s smiling - practically smirking - and Lance laughs.

 

He laughs and laughs and maybe Keith isn’t that far off.

 

But Keith joins in and they’re both laughing, clutching their stomachs and fucking  _ wheezing,  _ and Lance knows this isn’t the time.

  
So he wipes the tears, welled up from laughter, from the corners of his eyes, and resigns himself to wait.

**Author's Note:**

> kudos, comments, con-crit appreciated
> 
> hmu on [tumblr](https://pidgeotto-gunderson.tumblr.com/)


End file.
